


Lesson Plan

by MizJoely



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Professor!Lock AU, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Holmes is intrigued by his student, Miss Molly Hooper. It was supposed to be a simple undercover job, but his above-average student complicates things in a very delightful way. Inspired by this lovely portrait of BC: http://miz-joely.tumblr.com/post/93468577432/miz-joely-miz-joely-allthebellsinvenice</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Student-Teacher Relations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllTheBellsInVenice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheBellsInVenice/gifts).



Professor Sherlock Holmes idly flipped through a book of romantic poetry he’d pulled at random off the shelf behind him. He was sitting in the private library belonging to the staff at the small public school where he currently taught a variety of subjects. Waiting. He knew she would come; she always did when he summoned her for a private tutorial, even when said summoning consisted only of a certain look...as it had today. A look she’d responded to with a slight catch of breath, a faint hint of pink to her cheeks before she’d ducked her head and hurried off, books clutched tightly to her chest.

He certainly hadn’t started out to seduce a student when he’d accepted this temporary posting at his brother Mycroft’s behest. Of course he’d been bored out of his mind from day one, but the long con that was being played out against the Headmistress required an equally long commitment from himself, so he’d made sure to leave plenty of free time in his schedule to take on short-term outside cases as they presented themselves. Unfortunately none had presented themselves to him since the Christmas holidays, which was when Miss Hooper had first caught his attention.

He’d noticed her before, of course, as one of the few bright spots in an otherwise boring academic landscape; a quiet, serious-minded young lady who was here on scholarship, had few but very loyal friends, and no boyfriends either openly or on the sly (or romantic female partners, for that matter). She was what a previous generation might have termed ‘bookish’, wore black-rimmed rectangular glasses for reading, kept her chestnut-colored hair long but neatly contained within a braid or single tail tied at the back of her neck…and of course her mind was a step above ordinary. She would make a good career for herself once she finished whatever program she entered into after graduation – something in the sciences, he judged based on her curriculum and side studies, or possibly the medical field.

During the Christmas holidays he’d been forced to remain on campus as the suspect had been expected to make a move at that time. Excitingly enough, he hadn’t, which had considerably increased Sherlock’s interest in the case and also raised his opinion of the suspect’s intelligence.

It had also, however, left him rusticating in the middle of nowhere without much to occupy his time other than reading or surfing the internet, both boring. Or else deducing what little he hadn’t already from the few other staff and students who either had no family to return to or didn’t celebrate Christmas. Miss Hooper, it would seem, was in the former category, although decidedly not in the latter; he’d come across her attempting to smuggle a small bit of greenery into her bedroom in the middle of the night. “Because it’s just not Christmas without a tree, Professor,” she’d tried to explain, while he busied himself looking stern and disapproving when secretly he was rather tickled by her small rebellion. Normally Miss Hooper was a girl who obeyed the rules almost to a fault, and because of that and his own private amusement – well, and because he honestly couldn’t give two figs for the rule – he let her off with a stern warning not to attempt any such tomfoolery in future.

She’d ducked her head and mumbled her thanks, hugging the pine branches to her chest as if they were the most precious items in her possession. Later, when he leaned how important Christmas had always been to her father, who had died not quite two years ago, he would come to understand how accurate that observation was.

He’d sought her out on Boxing Day, offering his services as private tutor, with no hidden agenda for once other than a desire to learn more about the surprising Miss Molly Hooper. It was an idle and yet useful way for them both to pass the time and would be helpful in her future endeavors. She’d stammered out her thanks and blushed, which he’d taken entirely for embarrassment, although he knew better now.

His lips curled in a smile at the memory of their first session in this very room; an accidental touch of his hand against hers as he pointed something out in her chemistry text had pinkened her cheeks and put the stammer back in her voice. Curiosity and something else, the part of himself he normally kept very tightly under control, stirred within his mind, and he’d decided to conduct a little experiment to judge the depths of her interest in him as something other than an educational resource.

In that spirit he allowed himself another ‘accidental’ touch, his fingers brushing against hers, and noted with pleasure the definite shiver that went over her petite form. And when he leaned over to demonstrate the proper rendition of a formula on her notepad, resting one hand lightly on her shoulder, she shivered again, her cheeks flushing an even brighter pink than before.

Two days later they were discussing a particularly sticky maths problem when she piqued his interest in an entirely different manner. During his tenure here he’d cultivated the appearance of a stuffy, dogmatic bore, exactly the sort of professor parents wanted around their adolescent daughters. But Molly, it appeared, had already seen through that façade; as he demonstrated why she’d got the maths problem wrong, he caught her looking at him with a bit of a knowing smile on her lips. “A problem, Miss Hooper?” he said stiffly.

Her mouth dropped open as she realized she’d been caught staring. “Oh!” she exclaimed nervously, fidgeting with her textbook. “N-nothing, Professor. It was…”

“I doubt it was ‘nothing’ that was distracting you,” he retorted. “I hope you know that you can speak freely in front of me. Certainly when we are alone,” he added, in an effort to discern if her thoughts had been wandering down certain naughty pathways.

But no; instead, she surprised him by saying, “It’s just that…you’re not actually a professor, are you. I mean, not a proper one, not like the face you’ve been showing everyone else.”

He frowned at her; he was the one who was supposed to be deducing her, after all. “What makes you say that, Miss Hooper?” he asked, using his coldest and most intimidating tone.

Although she flushed and looked ready to bolt, she stood her ground – or rather, remained in her seat, hands clenched tightly around her pencil and notebook. “Because I’ve seen you, when you think no one’s looking,” she replied after a moment, her voice faint but becoming stronger as she met his eyes. “You look bored or distracted, and there’s those times when you’re absent for a day or two – three days, once, in November – and I can tell you think most of the other staff are stupid and useless even if you don’t say so.”

He nodded to indicate she should go on when she faltered to a stop, curious to see if there was anything more she’d noticed about him. She took a deep breath before blurting out, “And you get those odd messages on your mobile…I mean, no, I haven’t read them!” she exclaimed, biting her lip and lowering her eyes as her entire face flushed red. “But you get them at odd times, and when you read them you have this grin sometimes, as if…as if you’ve received amazing news or heard from someone you’ve been missing. But I overheard you telling Miss Hedges that you have no family or close friends, and so I thought, well, it must be…something else,” she’d concluded, rather lamely.

He hadn’t expected her to notice much of anything at all about him besides his physical appearance and air of authority and perhaps his teaching skills. That was all anyone else seemed to notice about him in this place. She continued to surprise him, and his opinion of her intelligence continued to rise. So few people managed either, and to find both in one quiet, petite package that just so happened to be fitted out in a face and figure that exactly matched his tastes…well. There was absolutely no way he was going to let her slip through his fingers.

He didn’t answer the unasked question regarding his phone calls and occasional absences, instead changing the subject back to maths and eventually to some questions she had regarding chemistry. Which, as it turned out, was exactly what he wished to study more of with Miss Hooper. She was ten years younger than he, nowhere near his genius level of intelligence and entirely unworldly; it was about time she was granted some mystery and excitement in her life.

Both of which he was all too happy to provide. Many would disapprove of his intentions toward her, but she was of legal age and clearly interested in the same sort of relationship he was, so he dismissed any concerns about what others might think. At the same time, he acknowledged that the clandestine nature of their personal interactions held as much appeal to him as it surely would to her.

All in all, he concluded, that initial experiment had been entirely successful. A week after she’d turned the tables on him and correctly deduced that he wasn’t exactly who he claimed to be – although she still had no idea who he really was – he coaxed her into allowing him to kiss her, although he was very careful about when and where the kiss took place. Outside, on the grounds, far from the prying eyes of the few others still on campus, who were entirely uninterested in the pair of them anyway. Miss Hooper – Molly, although he rarely used her first name, enjoying the formality of their surnames even when he was whispering filthy suggestions in her ear – was considered a safe student, and he of course was far too staid and boring to do anything untoward with one of the girls.

If Molly retained any such beliefs about him, he was smugly certain he’d utterly destroyed them when he came to a stop behind a stand of pine trees on the western border of the school grounds. “Professor Holmes? Is something wrong?” 

He shook his head and smiled at her, a warm, slow smile as he reached out and cupped her cheek with one hand. It was the first time he’d touched her deliberately, in a manner that could never be mistaken as an accident, and the same small shiver shook her form as his fingers caressed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing deepened as he leaned forward and spoke softly, barely above a whisper, both hands cradling her head. “I’m going to kiss you, Miss Hooper. If that is not what you wish to happen right now, then all you need to do is step away.”

When she remained unmoving, his smile deepened and he turned his head, brushing his lips gently across hers. She gave a little gasp and her hands came up to rest on his, sliding down to his wrists and holding on for dear life as he took immediate advantage of her opened mouth to deepen the kiss. She followed his lead eagerly, not at all shy about sliding her tongue along his or sucking his bottom lip into her mouth after he’d demonstrated the technique on hers. 

When he pulled back after a moment to study her, he was pleased at how flushed her cheeks were, the dilation of her pupils and the ragged gasps her breathing had devolved into. He knew he presented a much cooler façade, could read the uncertainty in her eyes as he gazed at her, and gently took her hand in his and laid it over his chest. Her eyes widened as she felt the strong beat of his heart, and he smiled as he leaned forward to kiss her again…

A timid knock at the door caught his attention and brought him instantly back to the present. “Come in,” he said crisply, and the door opened, revealing Molly’s habitually uncertain smile as she peered into the room.

“You…you wanted to see me, Professor Holmes?”

He closed the book with a snap and a thin smile. “Ah, yes, Miss Hooper. Come in, please, and shut the door behind you.”

She nodded and edged into the room, fidgeting nervously with her uniform tie with one hand while softly shutting the door behind her with the other. He heard the firm click of the latch and bit back another smile; she was such a good girl, she already knew the rules of this new game they were playing without his ever having said a word.


	2. Being Schooled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for the lovely reviews, you guys always make my day! Sexytimes are coming, and I guess there's still a dubcon vibe to this since Sherlock's the professor and Molly's the student, but again, I hope I made it clear it's HER decision to continue things between them!

Molly forced herself to stop fidgeting with her tie as approached Professor Holmes, dropping her hands to her sides in a vain attempt at appearing casual. He was perched on the arm of the chair rather than seated in it properly; when she stopped in front of him, his head was just level with hers. She watched as he carefully placed the book he’d been holding on the low table in front of the chair, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest as he then gave her one of those smiles, the ones that nearly made her faint every single time. His eyes locked with hers as he reached out and lightly tugged her closer to him, one hand on her tie and the other grazing her hip. “So, Miss Hooper,” he said, his voice deep and shiver-inducing as his grip on her tie tightened, “what shall we be…studying…today?”

"A-anatomy, sir," Molly stuttered out, faced flushed and palms suddenly very, very sweaty. This was a dangerous game she was playing, she knew it well, but ever since first laying eyes on the man currently tugging the knot of her school tie loose and gliding his fingers beneath the hem of her blouse, she’d been utterly and completely smitten. And not just some schoolgirl crush, either; it wasn’t simply his piercing eyes or his gorgeous hair or amazingly fit body that captured her attention so completely, but his overwhelming, sometimes frightening intelligence. The more she discovered about him, the more she wanted to learn. Letting him flit in and out of her life without at least trying to get to know him better was simply not an option.

The mystery of who he actually was – surely not simply a professor! – was part of the attraction as well, but what drew her to him the most was his mind. She’d never met anyone like him before, in her admittedly limited life experience; no one with such dazzling brilliance that he only infrequently showed. She wondered if he was an undercover police officer, although she couldn’t imagine what might be so interesting about her quiet little country school. 

She wondered, but she never asked; he hadn’t explicitly told her not to, but she’d quickly intuited that it was part of the dangerous, heady game they were playing. Well, she assumed it was merely a game to him, even though it was so much more to her. She also assumed that when she graduated come spring and left for uni, she would never see him again.

She assumed these things, but she actually had no clue what would happen then – nor did she care to speculate. She was eighteen, hardly a child, but she wasn’t exactly an experienced woman of the world, either. She had no idea what went on in Professor Holmes’ mind, what the end result of this dangerous flirtation would be or what he expected or truly wanted from her, but knew she wouldn’t give it up for the world. And if that made her a bad girl or a slag or any other title her mother would no doubt sling at her if she ever found out, then so be it.

"Anatomy." He repeated her answer thoughtfully, and Molly felt those long, clever fingers of his ghosting over her abdomen where he’d tugged her blouse up and over her skirt. Her skin erupted in goosebumps, and his smiled darkened a bit, bringing a shiver down her back that had nothing to do with his actual touch. When he pulled his hands out and toyed with the first button on her blouse, raising a questioning eyebrow, she gave a tiny nod. Permission for him to go further than she’d allowed in the past. But how much further?

That question gave her pause, although she showed no outward sign, standing quietly as he made quick work of the buttons on her plain white blouse. Instead of removing her tie he simply left the loosened strip of fabric in place, pulling it free of her collar as he eased the blouse down her unresisting arms and allowed it to drop to the floor.

Pulse racing, she nibbled her bottom lip. How much further? Perhaps…all the way? Was she ready for that, only two months after that first, searing kiss he’d given her? Well, why not? That kiss, which seemed to burn on her lips even now, had taken place only a week after he’d first touched her. She’d felt a jolt of electricity when his fingers brushed across hers, and every time he’d touched her since then. She wanted him, so very badly, so why wait? If he was willing, then so was she. Never mind that she still knew next to nothing about who he actually was – he’d written several academic papers, but that and a few formal portraits and a very stilted biography were all she’d found on line. She hadn’t asked him for details, and he hadn’t offered them to her, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

Whether he turned out to be a policeman or an art thief hiding out from the law, he was here, right now. With her. The rest was…well, she’d say academic, but he’d probably frown at her attempt at humor. She’d always been rather horrid at making jokes and hadn’t ever tried one on him. No point in destroying his inexplicably good opinion of her, after all.

She licked her lips and tried a smile as she gazed directly into his eyes. They were more blue than green today, what she could see of them beyond the endless darkness of his blown-back pupils, and she imagined her own eyes had retreated to mere rims of brown as her breathing became labored. She dared to reach out and graze her hands along his jawline, feeling the muscles flex beneath her butterfly-soft touch.

"And exactly what aspect of anatomy are you interested in studying today, Miss Hooper?" Professor Holmes asked, his voice gone to that deeper register that she only heard him use when they were alone.

She felt his voice vibrating along her fingertips, and couldn’t help wondering how it would feel on other parts of her body. So far he hadn’t touched her anywhere below the belt, as it were, but she suspected – hoped – it was only because he was waiting for her to grant permission, silent or otherwise, for him to do so. "The f-female reproductive system."

The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them; mortified, she dropped her eyes. How ridiculous she sounded! But surely he would understand exactly what she was offering…the question was, would he take it?

Her tension dissipated as she heard him laugh, a deep, rich chortle, and dared to meet his eyes once again. “Shall we begin with an exploration of the female secondary sexual characteristics?” he asked, eyes burning with what she chose to interpret as desire. Without waiting for an answer he undid the front clasp to her bra and cupped her breasts in his hands, thumbs brushing her nipples so lightly she could barely feel it…and at the same time, could feel every touch as if his fingers were made of pure electricity.

“You’re very sensitive, I see,” he murmured approvingly. “Not all women are. It often correlates to breast size, although not always.” His lecturing voice by itself could weaken her knees, let alone his lecturing voice delivering such a delightfully filthy – and yet perfectly academic – statement.

Molly’s hands had lowered to his shoulders as he spoke; although her eyes kept trying to flutter shut, she forced them to stay open, to meet his as long as he kept his gaze trained on her face. Their previous encounters had taught her that one single lapse was enough to end their private ‘session’, and now that she knew she was ready to take this just as far as he was willing to go, she had no desire to prematurely end things.

As if reading her thoughts, he kept his unwavering gaze on her even as his thumbs continued to tease her nipples with the softest of touches, his palms warm on the tender undersides of her breasts. When he lightly pinched her right nipple, she gasped in surprise and pleasure, feeling the growing dampness between her legs that developed at each clandestine encounter, wondering if he could smell how much she wanted him as well as read it in her features.

Professor Holmes lowered his head until his nose was brushing against her left nipple, and Molly sucked in a breath, eyes finally snapping shut and heat flooding her body from her core outward. Her hands were shaking and she tightened her grip on his shoulders as he finally caught her nipple in his mouth and suckled it. She gasped, knees shaking, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her closer, so she stood between his thighs with his hands on the bare skin of her back. Supporting her, keeping her steady, but not holding her so tightly she could ever mistake security for imprisonment.

Knowing that everything that had happened and would happen between them would be her choice was all Molly needed to completely give herself over to him. As if sensing the surrender in her, Professor Holmes pulled his mouth away from her breast and tilted his head upward. She opened her eyes instantly, meeting his gaze without hesitation. Before he could say anything, ask what it was he clearly was about to ask her, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, willing him to understand. “Yes, Professor. Anything you want.”

oOo

Sherlock’s brow raised; so soon, she was ready for the next step so soon? He studied her, searching for any signs of hesitation or discomfort and finding none. He’d never formally engaged in any sort of dominance and submission play, although he was vaguely aware there were rules and safe words involved; however, he deduced that such things would be unnecessary in this situation. If Miss Hooper indicated her desire for such in future, he would of course acquiesce.

That, however, was for the future. Right now all he was interested in was hearing her say his name as she achieved orgasm. “Kneel down,” he said roughly, feeling his burgeoning erection straining against the suddenly too-tight grey trousers he was wearing. He released his hold on her, waiting for her to obey, to step back and then sink gracefully to her knees before he slowly, carefully undid the buttons on his matching grey waistcoat and white shirt. Her sensible white cotton brassiere hung on her shoulders, framing her perfect little breasts, and her school tie was draped between them, just begging to be tugged on. “Undo your hair,” he ordered her as he removed his shirt, pleased at the way her eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest. He was hardly a bronze god, but his musculature was more than adequate and he was vain enough to enjoy her obvious appreciation of his semi-nude form.

He joined her on the plush carpeting, although the sight of her kneeling at his feet had suggested an alternate activity. One that would be quite enjoyable for him and very likely for her as well, but was not the goal of today’s altered agenda. Another time; perhaps in a storage cupboard, where the sense of sight would be forbidden to them both, where they would be reduced to a universe of sound and smell and touch and taste…

“Undo my trousers,” he said, and her sweet compliance nearly shattered his intention to take things slowly. His hand twisted in the tie still hanging around her neck, and he tugged it lightly in order to catch her attention. “Kiss me,” he said huskily even as her fingers fumbled at his belt. It would be more difficult for her if she couldn’t see what she was doing, but it would only prolong the pleasure for him. 

Her lips were soft and yielding beneath his; he eased the bra straps off her arms and dropped the scrap of fabric onto the floor next to her discarded blouse. He toed his shoes off and felt her moving to do the same. He would remove her knee-length socks himself, he resolved, then returned his full attention to kissing her, his other hand winding itself through the freed locks of her hair, directing the movements of her head and eliciting a soft moan of desire from her lips.

He’d kissed her several times since that first encounter behind the pine trees, and each experience had only served to increase his desire for her – and hers for him. She’d certainly become much more of an expert in what he liked, nipping at his lips with her perfect white teeth, licking the corners of his mouth, even sucking gently on the tip of his tongue as she pressed her body against his.

After her fumbling attempts at opening his trousers finally ended in success, he undid the zip on the side of her navy-and-gray plaid skirt and slid the rough woolen fabric down her legs. When she made to rise up in order to get the skirt past her knees, he gave another tug on her tie and shook his head, instead guiding her hands back to his trousers. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion for only the briefest of seconds, then her fingers were helping to pull his garments, trousers and pants together, down to his knees, freeing his cock to her gaze.

He let her look her fill, making no effort to guide her in this next step, calling on reserves of patience he otherwise would have denied having. She was nibbling on her lower lip, eyes wide open as she studied him, and if it had been possible he suspected her face would have flushed even redder. Her eyes darted up to meet his, then back down again as one hand hovered over the turgid flesh. He nodded, and her teeth clamped down on the tip of her tongue as she slowly lowered her hand until her fingers finally grazed the tip of his cock. It jumped a bit beneath her hesitant touch, and a small squeak of surprise escaped her lips.

Sherlock laughed softly and guided her hand, which she’d snatched away as if burnt, back to his cock. Slowly, gently but firmly, he curled her fingers until she was holding him, slid her hand up and down a few times until she seemed confident enough for him to let go and let her try it on her own. “It only seems fair to include the male reproductive system and sexual characteristics in our anatomy discussion,” he rumbled, reaching up and smoothly palming her sweet breasts before leaning down to take her left nipple into his mouth once again, greatly enjoying her gasp of pleasure as he did so. By the time this particular ‘lesson’ had ended, he’d resolved to make her call his name at least twice, possibly three times.

He eased her down onto the floor, his tongue swirling around her nipple, switching to the other breast and giving it much the same treatment while she writhed beneath him making soft mewling noises that went right to his groin. She’d released her hold on him, which was fine; this was about her – her pleasure, her sexual awakening if one were waxing poetic, her introduction to the enjoyment to be found in the arms of a skilled and masterful lover, which Sherlock most certainly was. A bit out of practice, perhaps, but it was certainly all coming back to him with a great deal of ease.

He knelt back up for a moment, just long enough to fully remove his trousers while she lay obediently on her back, hands by her sides, the girlish uniform skirt still bunched around her knees. Once he was fully nude, he wasted no time in removing it and the knee socks, leaving only her crisp white knickers to offer her any semblance of modesty.

He took a moment to gaze down at her with carefully restrained hunger, drinking in the sight of her combined anticipation and trepidation; her hands were trembling slightly, as were her lips as she stared up at him. Her hair was fanned out behind her, obscuring the details of the rich Persian carpet on which she lay, but the muted colors showed off the rest of her soft, pink body to perfection. “Beautiful,” he breathed, then lowered himself over her, pressing his body to hers and sinking into another worshipful kiss at the same time.


	3. Scholarly Pursuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly's tutoring session continues...

Molly couldn’t keep her hands to herself, wouldn’t have been able to resist touching that perfect, lean body even if he’d commanded her to do so. She touched his arms, his shoulders, finally twining her fingers in the soft, gingery locks that crowned his head. Although she’d noted his body hair had a similar shade, she’d also noted that his roots appeared to be somewhat darker, as if he colored his hair. Something to ask about, or at least ponder, when she was alone and remembering every detail about this encounter.

Later. Right now he was lecturing her about female anatomy, in keeping with the supposed topic of their ‘lesson’ – in between soft kisses to the parts in question. Her throat, her clavicle, each breast, her midsection, the hollow below her hip… “Oh!” she gasped as his mouth settled on her sex, still covered by her modest white knickers but certainly soaking through the cotton fabric enough for him to…

“Shall I taste you, Miss Hooper?” Sherlock asked as she raised herself on her elbows and stared dizzily down at him. “Would you like that, do you think?” He gave her another one of those slow, wicked smiles as he met her dazzled gaze. “I know I certainly will.”

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he raised himself up to his knees; then his fingers danced over her legs, directing her to bend them and plant her feet flat on the carpet. She watched, wide-eyed, as he drew her knickers down to her knees, from there to her ankles, where he lifted each foot in turn and eased them free of her body.

Instead of simply tossing them aside or piling them with her other clothing, Professor Holmes slowly lifted them to his face and took a deep sniff. Molly let out a whimper at the sight, automatically closing her thighs in an attempt to soothe the deep ache that had developed between her legs.

She watched avidly as he grinned down at her, then balled up her knickers, turned and reached for his trousers, and stuffed them into one of the pockets. From the other he pulled out a small foil square, and her eyes widened further in alarm and arousal; had he planned this, had he known that today was the day she gave herself to him?

“I always keep one handy, Miss Hooper,” he said in response to her unspoken questions. He laid the condom deliberately next to her right hand. “When you’re ready for me, then open this and I’ll help you put it on. If that day isn’t today, then we’ll simply keep it handy for the next time.”

Molly felt her sudden tension entirely dissipate at those words. He was still giving her the choice, the control; if they moved beyond what had already occurred between them, it would be entirely up to her. And if they didn’t actually have sex today, he was letting her know that he was willing to wait.

That there would be another chance for them.

_No_ , she decided. Not later. _Now._ She was greedy for him; she’d never wanted anyone like this, and who knew when whatever it was that had brought him to her school would once again take him away? “I think…you might have said something a-about…tasting?” she found herself asking, marveling at her sudden boldness.

The smile he gave her in response was entirely predatory; he lowered himself back to the floor, resting on his elbows with his face just above her sex, his hands reaching around to cradle her bum. Then, with a single, smouldering look, he lowered his head and dipped his tongue into her slick folds.

Molly dug the heels of her hands into her mouth, her fingers pressing against her forehead, in an attempt to stifle her moans and gasps of pleasure as Professor Holmes demonstrated his expert knowledge of female anatomy via the medium of his clever, talented lips and tongue. When he teased her clitoris a low, keening wail tried to force itself through her lips; Molly desperately did her best to hold it back.

“Let it out, Molly,” Professor Holmes growled, pulling up and staring at her, his mouth and chin shiny with her juices. “No one can hear us, they’re all at the other end of the building or away on errands.” God, it was obscene, it was filthy, it was wrong, but all she wanted to do was pull him down to her for a kiss, to taste herself on his lips. But first she wanted to fall over that edge, the one he’d been driving her toward, the one that she’d willingly plunged over many times since first meeting him, if only at her own hands. Aided, of course, by fantasies that paled in comparison to the real thing. When he dove back between her legs, working her mercilessly with her tongue, his fingers joining in unexpectedly – she hadn’t even felt him let go of her bum – it was mere seconds before she found herself once more on the brink, and her cries of pleasure sounded very loud to her ears even as she vainly attempted to muffle them with her hands.

As she trembled and shook, shuddering with each little aftershock, eyes clenched tightly shut, she felt him moving, shifting until he lay next to her. He kissed her shoulder and she turned blindly toward him, groping for his head, pulling his face down to hers and surrendering to her desire to taste, to breathe in their mingled scents, one hand reaching for the small foil packet he’d entrusted to her care. “Now,” she breathed when the kiss ended. The taste of herself was sour, musky, and entirely intoxicating merely because it was on his lips. “Please, Professor. Now.” 

Then she pressed the condom into his hand, opening her eyes to meet his so he could see how very, very ready she was for him.

oOo

Sherlock didn’t bother asking Molly if she was sure; he could read it on her face, in her eyes, in her relaxed and eager body language. Without a word he ripped open the small package and rolled the condom onto his throbbing cock. It was amazing what sex did to the intellect, he mused as he reached down and slid two fingers into Molly’s soft, wet, pussy; even though he knew all the technical terms for the male and female sexual organs, all he could think of at the moment was the basest, most vulgar words.

And he loved it. He leaned over Molly’s eager body, taking himself in hand and pressing the tip of his cock against her opening, whispering a stream of filthy suggestions into her ear as he did so. “I want you, Miss Hooper, so very badly, and I wonder if you want me as much as want you? Do you want to feel me inside you as much as I want to feel your sweet little pussy around my cock? Do you want to call my name as you come as much as I want to hear you saying it? Will you call me Sherlock, I wonder, or will it still be Professor Holmes you cry out for?”

Molly was making a series of inarticulate noises as he spoke, clutching him tightly to her body as he slid teasingly in and out, shallow thrusts that barely touched against her intact hymen. “Tell me you want me to fuck you, Miss Hooper. Tell me you want me as much as I want you. Tell me you understand that even though it might be uncomfortable for you, that you know I’ve done my level best to assure that it isn’t actually painful. Can you say that for me?”

“I want you,” she gasped out, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she thrust her hips upward, tiny movements but forceful as she attempted to feel him deeper inside her. “I w-want you to f-fuck me,” she said, turning bright red as she did so. It was the first time she’d uttered that particular vulgarity, and he exulted in the sound of it falling from her lips.

Before he progressed any further, however, he needed more. He waited until she was able to meet his gaze, waiting for her nod before pressing his cock deeper inside, encouraged by the way she tensed and then immediately, deliberately relaxed her body. He gave a few experimental thrusts; there it was, the expected barrier, but one determined surge forward and he was through, deep inside her, stilling himself as her fingers dug into his shoulders and her breathing shortened into heavy pants. When she opened her eyes and nodded, he began moving, slow steady thrusts to help her through the burn of losing her virginity.

He supposed he ought to feel some sort of satisfaction at being the one to ‘deflower’ Molly; some sort of male egotistical sense of accomplishment that he’d been her first, but the truth was that he wouldn’t have cared if she’d had a hundred lovers before him. It wasn’t her innocence that drew him to her, but her intellect. Yes, her body was sweet; slender in form, softly curved and dotted with freckles here and there, but it was the mind her body housed that had initially attracted him to her. Without it, there would have been no point to this seduction.

However, there was also something to be said for the way she was softly gasping as her fingers eased their tight grip on his shoulders, for the way her eyes had fallen so tightly shut, the way the sweat was beading on her brow and the becoming flush that had covered her cheeks. Her lips were parted and he couldn’t resist the urge to press a soft kiss to them as he felt her body tensing beneath his. “Why, Miss Hooper,” he rumbled against her lips as her thrust became harder, more demanding, meeting his with a fierceness he hadn’t expected so soon. “Is it possible that you’re about to come again?”

Her response was a low moan that vibrated against his lips. He increased the speed and depths of his thrusts, reaching for her wrist and bringing her hand down between their bodies. “Come for me again, Molly,” he whispered, turning his head and brushing his lips against her ear. “Let me feel you.” Reaching for the tie, he gave it a sharp tug, turning her head so that his lips brushed against hers, and growled out, “ _Now_.”

As soon as the shriek tore itself from her throat he kissed her, feeling her body bucking beneath his as he greedily swallowed down her cries of passion. He kept a tight hold on the school tie, not choking her, simply anchoring himself as he felt his own release building. Before she’d stopped moving against him, going limp and panting for breath, he reached his climax, gritting his teeth against his own urge to cry out, resting his sweat-dampened forehead against her shoulder as he gave a powerful, final thrust and rode out their shared aftershocks.

When both of them had recovered enough to move, he carefully pulled out of her, tying off the used condom and disposing of it in the nearby bin. After making a mental note to bring it to the rubbish tip himself and save any raised eyebrows by the cleaning staff, he returned his attention to Molly.

She was staring up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling as if she were about to cry, not the reaction he’d been hoping for but not entirely unexpected considering the magnitude of what they’d just done. Not only had she given up her virginity, a supposedly precious commodity although he’d never understood why so much value was placed upon something so ridiculous, but she’d done so with a man ten years older than herself. On the floor of a library. In her school. He could almost see the panic trying to thread its way through her mind as her eyes darted around and she hurriedly raised herself to her elbows. He silently offered her his hand, wondering if he could find the right words to ease her frantic worries, to let her know that she was still just as valuable, just as important to him as she’d always been…

“Oh my God, Professor! You could lose your job over this! Or, or even go to jail! I’m..I’m sorry!” she gasped as she scrambled around, grabbing for her clothes and haphazardly throwing them back on. 

He blinked and stared at her, brows lowered in confusion, then found his mouth gaping open as the meaning of her words crashed over him. She wasn’t worried about herself, she was worried about him! “Molly,” he said, speaking her Christian name aloud for the first time. She paused in her panicky movements, looking at him uncertainly. He held his hand out again, quirking an eyebrow and adopting his sternest, most intimidating expression. The one he’d painstakingly taught her to respond to without thinking.

She took his hand immediately, obeying his tug and rejoining him on the floor, kneeling in front of him. He glanced briefly at the carpet, noting one small smear of blood that would have to be cleaned up, easy enough, he would take care of it as soon as he’d finished reassuring Molly and sent her on her way.

“You have absolutely no reason to worry about me, Molly Hooper,” he said, keeping his tone firm and even. “Even if we are ever found out, there will be no legal repercussions to me, and your reputation will remain spotless.”

“I don’t care about my rep –” she started to say, but he hushed her with a stern look and one finger pressed to her lips.

“I, however, do,” he said, allowing the faintest hint of disapproval to enter his voice. Instantly her eyes dropped and he felt the way her teeth tugged at her bottom lip beneath his finger. He slid the tip along the edge of her lips, rubbing lightly until she opened for him, tongue darting out to taste the saltiness there. “I don’t ever want you to either fret over consequences to me for our actions, or dismiss your own importance in comparison to mine.” He allowed his voice to slip over into full sternness. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Professor,” she replied as he pulled his finger away, gliding his hand along her cheek before removing it entirely. There was a faint blush on her cheeks again, this time having nothing to do with panic and everything, he thought smugly, to do with the effect he continued to have on her. 

He reached out and tugged her forward by her tie once more, to press a lingering kiss to her lips. “Tell me, Miss Hooper, do you feel you’ve been properly tutored on the subject matter today?” he asked teasingly when the kiss ended.

She responded with a solemn nod and a bashful smile, cheeks still pink. “I just hope you won’t mind if I need to brush up on the finer points now and then,” she said, her smile turning cheeky.

“Count on it,” he replied, then kissed her one last time before allowing her to redress herself while he did the same and tidied up the small bit of mess they’d made.

After she left, closing the door quietly behind her, he wondered how long it would take her to realize she’d never been given her knickers.


	4. Oral Exam

_Previously…_   
_He joined her on the plush carpeting, although the sight of her kneeling at his feet had suggested an alternate activity. One that would be quite enjoyable for him and very likely for her as well, but was not the goal of today’s altered agenda. Another time; perhaps in a storage cupboard, where the sense of sight would be forbidden to them both, where they would be reduced to a universe of sound and smell and touch and taste…_

Sherlock would recall that moment with fondness on many nights after classes resumed and their private encounters had to be enacted with even more caution – and nowhere nearly as frequently as either of them would have preferred. His favorite, aside from their first delightful interlude together, would forever remain the time she had been ‘accidentally’ left behind at school when the rest of the students had gone on a day-long outing to a nearby natural history museum. She’d somehow overslept; oh dear, it was almost as if someone had reset her alarm. Then she’d somehow been overlooked in the bed check and awoken only after the buses pulled away. He reassured the two members of the administrative staff that he would make certain that Miss Hooper was properly dealt with for her tardiness and for missing the outing. He relied on the administrators’ habits and avoidance of dealing with the students as much as possible to allow he and Molly the privacy they’d need. 

Once assured that the two women were taking advantage of the rest of the girls’ absence by doing as they always did in such situations – stuffing their faces with biscuits and tea and never venturing further than the office or the adjacent lounge in the main building since the headmistress had gone on the trip to supervise – he approached Molly. “Miss Hooper, come with me,” he said crisply as he passed by the seat she occupied outside the office doors.

She rose to her feet obediently, following behind him as he took her to one of the empty classrooms in the other building. Once there he pulled her into an empty coat cupboard, kissing her quite thoroughly as the door gaped open on the narrow space.

“You did this, sir, didn’t you,” Molly said when the kiss ended, breathless and eager. She held perfectly still as he carefully unbuttoned her blouse and slid it down her arms to drop to the floor. “Arranged this, I mean.”

“And what if I did?” Sherlock asked, pitching his voice low, feeling her shiver as he reached out and pulled the door shut, leaving them in near-total darkness. He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall behind him to join her blouse on the wooden floor.

“Then, thank you, sir,” Molly replied, and he felt her hands blindly reaching up for his face, running along his cheeks and over his ears. He could hear the smile in her voice and it brought one to his own lips, although he gave no sign of it when he next spoke.

Making sure to keep his voice stern, he reached up and grasped her lightly by the wrists, saying, “Miss Hooper, skipping out on a school outing is a serious offense, you do know that, don’t you.” He lowered her hands to her sides and heard her sharp intake of breath as he ghosted his hands up her sides, stopping just below her bra-clad breasts.

He felt her shiver again beneath his touch. “Y-yes sir,” she stammered out, her heart beating madly beneath his fingers. “I-I suppose you’ll need to, to punish me, sir?

He reached up and tugged her bra straps down sharply, dragging his thumbs deliberately over her nipples as he lowered the cups and exposed her breasts. He couldn’t see them, of course, but he’d long since memorized the contours of her body and certainly didn’t need his eyes to know how to make her moan and gasp out his name. “Yes,” he said roughly before lowering his head and sucking one sweet nipple between his lips.

Her hands groped for his forearms, holding on for dear life as he suckled each nipple into a tight bud, drawing them away from her flesh with his teeth and then laving them with the flat of his tongue as she sucked in her breath in an attempt to stifle her moans. He approved; part of the idea of being shut away in the cupboard was to reduce the sensory input, to minimize it and thus, conversely, to amplify their own reactions. There was also the aspect of secrecy, heightening the allure of the forbidden...

Molly’s hands on the waistband of his trousers stopped the stream of thoughts and deductions as thoroughly as if she’d knocked him on the head. “Professor,” she panted as she undid his belt, practice having made her fingers nimble at that particular activity even in the darkness, “how exactly do you plan to punish me?”

She sounded eager, and his cock hardened as if she’d actually grasped it in her small, capable hands. He bit back a startled exclamation; _he_ was supposed to be the one in charge of this little interlude, not her. And he was supposed to be coolly detached from it all, enjoying the challenge of seducing her and the satisfaction of watching her blossom into a fully sexual woman – _he_ was supposed to be the one making her feel a bit out of control and dizzy with lust, not the reverse!

Shaking his head a bit to clear it, he reached out and tugged lightly on her school tie, still hanging from her neck and dangling between her pert little breasts. “On your knees, Miss Hooper,” he said crisply, keeping his voice low but commanding. “Time for an exercise in patience, I’m afraid, since you seem to have forgotten who’s in charge here.”

He’d forgotten it too but there was no need to give away his momentary weakness to her. After all, once the term ended – or if he found his blackmailer before then – they would be parting ways. She would be off to uni and he would return to his life at Baker Street, taking on cases and once again subsiding into an abstemious life. They would part ways for good, the better for having known one another, perhaps, but it would be the end of their story. He couldn’t allow her to affect him in more than a physical sense.

With that in mind, he instructed her to find and fold his discarded jacket, placing it beneath her knees. He heard her panting a bit as she obeyed, and knew that her pulse would be highly elevated were he to place his fingers on her wrist.

He wrapped the end of her tie around his hand, leaving her more than enough slack for what he had in mind. “Continue opening my trousers, Miss Hooper,” he said in the same cool, hushed tone in which he’d spoken earlier. He hoped his sternness would keep her from noticing the slight roughness of his voice.

“Yes, sir,” she replied obediently, and he could hear the eagerness in her voice as she did as he’d bade.

“Pull my trousers and pants down to my thighs,” he instructed when she’d finished undoing the button and zip. Her small hands tugged at the waistband; he felt her slipping her fingers between the elastic of his pants and brushing against his heated flesh, and swallowed a groan of anticipation. He wouldn’t keep entirely silent, of course; that wouldn’t be fair to Molly, who would need some sort of verbal clue that he was pleased with her, but he would wait until she’d…

The groan escaped before he realized it as she delicately wrapped her fingers round his cock and gave it a slight tug. She was well acquainted with that particular action by now, as was he, and yet it never failed to give him a ridiculously juvenile thrill to feel her hand holding him so firmly, or the way she brushed her thumb over the tip where it peeked from beneath its fleshy hood.

He allowed his hands to drift to her head, carding his fingers through her unbound hair before lightly grazing her chin and tilting her head back. “Miss Hooper, today’s lesson will be combined with your punishment for your tardiness,” he said huskily. “I believe you’re ready for further instruction in the male anatomy, are you not?”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and her hand tightened just the slightest bit before she loosened it again. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, sir. Please.”

oOo

Molly had wanted to put her mouth on Professor Holmes’ lovely prick for weeks now, but had never quite worked up the nerve to ask about it. What if it was something he didn’t enjoy, no matter how much the other girls nattered on about their boyfriends’ obsession with the act? Such worries faded to nothing as she understood what he wanted of her. She waited for him to move her head again, and was rewarded by the feel of his free hand returning to her hair, the other tugging lightly on her school tie until she leaned forward, her lips pressing lightly against his shaft just above her hand.

With her other hand, she reached up and slid her fingers along his thigh, being careful to keep her movements slow and easy. She had no desire for this session to end prematurely with her accidentally knocking him in the bollocks! Ooh, her questing fingers were on that part of his anatomy now, cupping the bulgy sack and feeling the slight wiriness of his dark pubic hair. Feeling greatly daring, she opened her mouth and swiped her tongue cautiously along his length, releasing her hold on his shaft in order to do so. She felt him tense beneath her touch, and thought she heard another stifled groan.

She smiled to herself. It was intoxicating to know that he was just as affected by her touch as she was by his, that he wasn’t as in control of his own body’s reactions as he wanted them both to believe. She was determined to make him come completely undone, even if she had no experience outside of practice with a carrot under the blankets a few nights back. She certainly had no desire to giggle at herself right now!

After taking a few more tentative swipes and feeling his fingers caressing her hair, she felt a bit more confident, enough to try and actually take him into her mouth. “Slowly,” she heard him caution her, fingers tightening as she tugged his prick down a bit. 

She nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see her, then said, “Yes, sir,” in the tone of meek obedience that never failed to please him. Nor would she fail to please him at this. She wrapped her lips around the head of his prick, feeling the roll of flesh and tasting the musky sharpness she’d smelled many times before. There was a small bead of precum on his tip, and she licked it curiously, trying to decide if she liked the taste or not.

“There are no expectations of…that is, I will warn you when I’m about to ejaculate, Miss Hooper.”

His voice was like velvet in the darkness, caressing her ears, the slight rasp so much easier to hear when she wasn’t distracted by gazing enraptured at his body or into his mesmerizing eyes. “I want to taste it,” she said, emboldened by the uncharacteristic hesitancy in his voice, the slight stumbling over words that was usually something she did rather than him.

Oh, she definitely heard the hitch in his breath, felt his fingers tighten a bit in her hair; had she surprised him, then? Good. She loved following his instructions, doing as he commanded her to do, but she enjoyed surprising him almost as much. “Very well,” he said, and his voice was definitely rough with desire. “But a taste is all you’ll have this time; after all, this is meant to be punishment, Miss Hooper, not a reward.”

Molly’s nipples hardened at the word ‘punishment’. The two of them hadn’t done anything that could be considered kinky – outside of this encounter, that is – but the idea of him actually punishing her, spanking her, tying her up, made her dizzy with desire. She would broach the idea with him at some future point, she resolved, then returned her attention to the matter at hand. Without another word she took the head of his prick back into her mouth, sucking enthusiastically. She experimented a bit, seeing how much of his considerable length she could manage, and was pleased to discover that her low gag reflex stood her in good stead. She continued to bob on him, hollowing her cheeks to build up suction, lightly running her fingers over his scrotum, along the perineum and back again.

He’d dropped her tie, and both his hands were now tangled in her hair, although she noted that he did nothing to guide her movements. That was fine this time, but next time she would drop a few hints that she wouldn’t mind him moving her head about a bit; they could make a signal, like her tapping him on the buttocks or something if she needed him to ease up.

She was still musing on future encounters when she heard him gasp out her name – her first name, she noted with a thrill, rather than the more formal ‘Miss Hooper’. “Molly, I’m going to…”

He pulled sharply on her hair, hard enough to remove her mouth from his prick but not hard enough to hurt her head, while simultaneously removing her fingers from his erection and grasping it in his own hand. She laid her hand over his, feeling him give three sharp pumps, and opened her mouth in anticipation. Seconds later she heard him gasping and felt the sticky warmth of his ejaculate on her lips and chin.

His desperate grasp on her hair eased, and he smoothed it away from her face as he sank down to join her on the wooden floor. He pulled her roughly into his lap, kissing her even though her face was still covered with his cum, and Molly moaned against his lips. When the kiss ended he laid her on her back; she felt him moving, groping for the cupboard door, and he opened it a crack. Just enough for her to see the rather wild look in his eyes as he gazed down at her. He licked his lips and Molly felt moisture pooling between her legs. Her knees were bent, and she spread her thighs, anticipating his next move.

oOo

It wasn’t as if he’d never had anyone’s mouth on him before. But the fact of the matter was that it had been several years since he’d last indulged himself – and in spite of his landlady’s endless speculations, it had most emphatically _not_ been with his flatmate and good friend John Watson. Because of the length of time that had passed, he’d assumed that he’d find the encounter enjoyable no matter how well or poorly Molly acquitted herself.

‘Enjoyable’, as it turned out, was something of an understatement. Despite her youth and inexperience, Molly Hooper had a definite flair for the act. Not only was she naturally talented, but she seemed to actually enjoy doing it as well, something not always encountered in a sexual partner.

And now it was his turn to do something they both enjoyed; he placed his head between her legs, grasping her thighs in his hands and lapping eagerly at the pooling moisture in her pussy. She’d recently trimmed her pubic hair, giving him easier access. He sucked on her clit, hearing the tiny moans and gasps that never failed to thrill him, and felt her hands groping for his hair. He’d told her it was all right tug on his hair, and he wondered how she’d feel if she saw him without the thin disguise of a shorter haircut and the gingery dye job he periodically subjected himself to. She’d certainly get better purchase on his normal dark curls, tugging at the sensitive follicles and discovering exactly how much he enjoyed the sensation.

Roughly he pushed that particular fantasy aside. The two of them only had as long as this case lasted. Although there was a part of him that longed to take her into his confidence, to tell her who he really was, to keep her in his life beyond the rapidly-approaching end of term, the sane, sensible part of him knew what a terrible idea it would be. He lived a dangerous life, and to drag her into it would be beyond irresponsible. He didn’t need to hear John’s voice in his head to remind him of that.

He did, however, need to focus, to draw out this encounter in order to give Molly the maximum pleasure he could. She’d shown no signs of disgust when he’d ejaculated on her face, or when he’d kissed her immediately following. When he’d brought her to orgasm with his mouth and tongue, he’d be sure to kiss her again, to see how she reacted to the taste of her own musky juices mingled with his.

First, however, he needed to bring her over the edge, hear and feel and smell her as she climaxed against his lips. He darted his tongue deeper inside her sex, felt her hands twisting in his hair and knew she was close. He pulled his tongue out of her, swirling it around her clit as he pressed two fingers deep inside her, aiming for her so-called G-spot, knowing he’d found it when she let out a strangled cry and dug her nails into his scalp as her body arched and writhed. Her hips lifted and he pressed her back down with one hand on her abdomen, being sure to keep his hold firm but not painful. A series of keening whimpers escaped her lips and he felt her tensing around him, tasted the change as her orgasm flooded over her. He licked up every bit of the gushing wetness that escaped her body, pulling his mouth away only when the tugs on his hair became pushes as her over-sensitized body began to move from pleasure to pain.

He sat up, waiting for her body to stop shaking, for her tightly-clenched eyes to open and focus on him again. Once they’d locked gazes, he held out his hand and took hers, helping her to rise, settling her on his lap and stroking her hair as she draped her arms around him and sighed contentedly. “I do hope you’ve learnt your lesson, Miss Hooper,” he said, reaching down to fondle her soft little bum, then flattening his hand and delivering a smart slap in the same spot.

She yelped and frowned up at him; he smirked and shrugged. “Punishment,” he reminded her, leaning down for a demanding kiss. 

“Yes, Professor,” she said, lowering her eyes demurely when the kiss ended – and shifting her body very subtly against his. Enough to let him know that her sensitivity had ebbed, and that she was well aware that his cock was semi-hard again. “But I think you might need to reinforce the punishment. Just to make sure it all…sinks in.” Then she had the temerity to smirk at him proudly, as if her terrible joke deserved some sort of praise.

Oh, no; that wouldn’t do at all. “On your knees, Miss Hooper,” he said crisply, sliding her off his lip and raising himself up. He stroked himself into full hardness, nudging between her legs as she complied, staring over her shoulder at him with an expression of faint alarm in her warm brown eyes. He grinned coldly at her; she wanted further punishment, did she? He was quite happy to oblige. He pressed his erection between her thighs, watching complacently as her eyes widened in understanding. He’d never taken her from behind before, although it was one of his favorite positions. Time to see how much she enjoyed it as well.

oOo

Molly hadn’t known what to expect when she tried teasing Professor Holmes a bit, but if this was how he responded, she resolved to do it more often in future! The sight of him kneeling up behind her, while she rested on all fours, legs spread wide to accommodate him as he slid his erection between her thighs, was almost enough to make her come right then and there. She groped for his jacket, which was on her end of the closet, and dug into his pockets until she found the foil packet she’d been searching for. “You’ll need this, sir,” she gasped out as he continued to tease her with his cock, rubbing it against her swollen clit and along her dripping folds.

She’d been a bit embarrassed at how wet she got for him, how her vaginal fluids seemed to just gush out of her when she came, but he’d not only told her it was completely normal and something he enjoyed, he’d actually shown her the slang term for it on his mobile a few weeks into their changed relationship. ‘Squirting’ sounded rather gross, but it felt fantastic and knowing that he enjoyed it – that he enjoyed tasting her when she did it as well as seeming rather pleased with himself for having been the cause of such an enthusiastic reaction from her – took any stigma off it entirely.

She heard him undoing the wrapper, watched breathlessly as he rolled the condom onto his fully erect cock, and opened her legs a bit wider in anticipation of his return to his previous position. “Lean forward,” he instructed her as he nudged the head of his cock against her sex, preparatory to entering her fully. Rest your head on your forearms.” She did as instructed, heart pounding madly at the sheer filthiness of this position, and let out a series of sighs and groans as he pushed his way into her.

She closed her eyes, listening to the obscene sound of his flesh against hers, gasping and biting her lip as he bent over her, his lips on her ear, the nape of her neck, her shoulder. One arm gripped her around the waist as he pounded into her, and the other hand toyed with her bouncing breasts before sliding down her waist and unerringly finding her clit. “Come for me, Molly,” he whispered, and the sound of her first name on his lips brought her once again to the edge of the precipice before propelling her over the edge.

He moved slower as she shuddered through the aftermaths of her orgasm but started increasing his speed once she raised her head and met his eyes. It wasn’t the most comfortable position for her head and neck, but she maintained eye contact as his movements became harder, faster, more desperate. Then he buried his face in her neck, biting down on her shoulder as he spent himself, his last few thrusts erratic before he finally gave a low moan and pulled them onto their sides.

They lay together for a few lovely minutes, but reality couldn’t be ignored forever, no matter how much she might wish it so. Professor Holmes sat up, disentangling himself from her with what felt like a great deal of reluctance. Then he reached into the back of the cupboard and pulled out a small shoe box holding a travel pack of moistened body wipes, some tissues, and a small can of air freshener. Not very romantic, but entirely practical under the circumstances.

“So, Miss Hooper,” he drawled after they’d cleaned and redressed themselves. “I take it you won’t be missing any future school trips?”

She leaned up and kissed him, loving the way his arms went around her as she did so. “I certainly hope I do!” she said cheekily, and was reward by the smack of his hand on her bum and the press of his lips against hers. She opened for him, sliding her tongue against his, closing her eyes and simply enjoying the moment. It was useless to wish for it to continue indefinitely, but she couldn’t help doing so. Just as she wished that the two of them could remain together after the semester was over. But that was a fantasy she’d long understood could never become reality. Whatever his life was outside of the school, it wasn’t one he could bring her into; he’d made that quite clear, although she was certain there was regret and longing in his eyes and voice when he’d done so.

With a regretful sigh, she allowed him to end the embrace, watching resignedly as her lovely, wicked Professor Holmes once again slid into the academic identity he’d created for himself. He sent her on her way to the library, and vanished into the grounds somewhere far from her, protecting her reputation as always.


	5. End of Term

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to allthebellsinvenice for this chapter over for me. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading and commenting, and apologies in advance for the lack of smut herein.

**Two Months Later**

Although neither of them knew it at the time, that stolen hour in the supply cupboard was to be their last intimate encounter before the case utterly consumed Professor Holmes’ time and energy. Although he took a few moments here and there to reassure her that it was, indeed, the case that was keeping them apart, she couldn’t help the feeling that things had changed permanently between them – and not for the better. Another man appeared, supposedly a visiting lecturer, a medical doctor from London, but he vanished almost as quickly as he arrived and never so much as spoke to a single student. He did, however, spend a great deal of time closeted with Professor Holmes, and Molly felt a ridiculous stab of jealousy, quickly followed by a private hour spent weeping as she finally acknowledged that, now that the case was coming to a head, things between herself and her Professor were irrevocably altered.

That became entirely obvious when, two days before the graduation ceremony, one of the teachers disappeared and was later found to have absconded with a large portion of the school’s donated funds. Professor Holmes vanished as well, not long after, without a single word to her or, from what she gathered, anyone else, even the headmistress, whose tension levels seemed almost at the breaking point. When he returned a few days later, it was obvious that he’d somehow been involved in the embezzlement scandal. At least it was obvious to Molly that he was the one who’d found the woman and returned the money to the headmistress. However, although she instinctively knew that this matter was somehow connected to the case he was here to investigate, it wasn’t the main event, so to speak.

No, that was reserved for the graduation ceremony itself, when the groundskeeper had been arrested for blackmail and attempted murder. The police chief and the keynote speaker – a visibly uncomfortable Detective Inspector Lestrade from the London Metropolitan Police, a choice that, amongst her classmates, only understood – had taken the man into custody, but Molly saw the sharp nod Professor Holmes had given them before the man was led away in handcuffs. She saw him leaving the disrupted ceremony not long after that, and knew that he was the real mastermind behind the arrest.

She watched sadly as he walked away without so much as a backwards glance. Not that she’d expected anything in so public a venue, but he hadn’t sought her out before the ceremony, either. Not to say good-bye, or to ask her to continue seeing him – foolish hope though she knew it to be! – or to somehow acknowledge the end of their relationship. She understood, she really did; the arrest and resultant disarray had kept him very busy, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

Disappointed, she tried to keep her feelings to herself as she and the other jubilant graduates left the temporary stage and joined their families, most of them still buzzing with excitement over the arrest. Her mum was there, of course, offering her tight-lipped approval of Molly’s success at reaching this milestone virtually unsupported. She’d been busy building her new life in Australia with her new husband, and Molly tried very hard to be happy that the two of them had at least shown up for this important event. She supposed it was because they would have to help her set up her temporary living quarters in one of her step-father’s housing blocks, until she was able to move into the dorm. None of them had even broached the idea of her simply coming back with them to Sydney for the summer.

After the obligatory congratulatory dinner, Molly returned to her room for the last time, making sure all her belongings had been properly packed and that everything was ready for the movers to put into the truck her step-father had hired to bring everything to the flat she’d be occupying for the next month or so. Then he would hire another crew to bring everything to her dorm, and her mum would be able to wash her hands of her yet again for another school term.

Molly shoved her bitter thoughts aside – there was nothing new about the strained relationship between herself and her mother, after all – and opened up the lap drawer of her desk, making one last check for any misplaced notepads or mobile chargers.

Inside she found a plain white envelope, with her name written on it in an achingly-familiar scrawl. _Miss Hooper_. Her breath caught as her heart began to beat double time; she sank into the plain wooden chair before lifting the envelope out of the shallow drawer with shaking fingers. It wasn’t sealed, and she slid one finger beneath the edge and opened it.

_My life, as you’ve witnessed first-hand, Miss Hooper, isn’t one that is either safe or predictable,_ she read by way of salutation. She let out a choked laugh at that understatement, then read on, tears filling her eyes as she saw what else Professor Holmes had to say.

_Bearing that in mind, please also know that I very seriously considered asking you to remain a part of my life in spite of those drawbacks. However, when I broached the subject with my good friend John Watson – yes, I do, indeed have a good friend and it is he who was the sender of the majority of those texts you saw my positive reaction to – he rather bluntly pointed out that it was wildly unfair of me to do so. After he first blistered my ear with the fact that I had entered into such a relationship with you when the laws against such are quite clear and with severe consequences. But you know that, having pointed it out to me after our first intimacy, and I digress from what has, quite distressingly, turned into a rather painful attempt to explain why we cannot see one another again, even though you have graduated and I am no longer your professor._

_Simply put, I cannot in good conscience allow our relationship to continue beyond this point. I have made enemies during my time as a consulting detective, and I would never forgive myself were something to happen to you due to your association with me._

Molly stopped reading, although there were more words; the ability to breathe escaped her for an unknown period of time as she stared blankly at the bare wall ahead of her. He’d considered asking her to stay with him, to continue their relationship, but was nobly stepping aside like some hero in a romance novel, protecting her with his distance.

“Damn you, Sherlock Holmes,” she whispered to herself. “I hope that if we ever see each other again, you know what an earful you’ll be getting from me.” Then she forced herself to read what little remained of the letter – regrets, praise for her, more protestations regarding the dangers of his life. 

If she ever saw him again, she resolved when she’d read the final salutation – ‘My deepest regards, Sherlock Holmes’ – she would slap him. Three times.

And then she’d tell him exactly what he could do with is overprotective attitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's a half-written epilogue that will be posted fairly quickly, promise!


	6. Epilogue - Welcome to Uni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the final chapter of this little smutfest. Thank you for staying for the ride, and extra special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review, that means so much to me! And thanks to allthebellsinvenice for acting as a wonderful beta!

It had been two years. Two long years since he'd last seen her. She'd graduated and gone on to university, studying medicine, which he knew she'd be brilliant at. Their lives had converged for less than a year before circumstances had torn them apart; he'd resolved to get back in touch with her after only six months had passed, regardless of what society or his elder brother might think of him entering into a public relationship with a woman ten years his junior, but then the Moriarty problem had popped up, and he understood exactly how right he’d been to end things with Molly as he had. It would have been unspeakably selfish of him to insinuate himself back into her life with such a danger hanging over his head. John Watson had nearly suffered fatal consequences due to his friendship with Sherlock; how much worse would it have been for the woman he lo...

No. He stopped that train of thought immediately. They had shared a very special time together and he sometimes wished she were still part of his life, but their chapter had ended. Even though he once again found himself acting the role of ‘Professor Holmes’, this time at her university as he rooted out the last of Moriarty's minions, that meant absolutely nothing. It wasn't, as John had tried to imply, a sign that he should reintroduce himself to Molly Hooper now that society would no longer condemn their relationship (and now that the main threat to his life had been eliminated); surely she'd long since moved on. He knew she'd dated, even had had a serious boyfriend for almost a year before he deliberately stopped keeping track of her, and those signs held far more weight than the simple coincidence of Sebastian Moran's using her current university as a front for his operations.

With a last glance out the window, trying not to conjure up images of a smiling, shy young woman receiving and giving her first real kiss behind a row of pines, Sherlock returned his attention to the text open before him, once again immersing himself in the role of educator.

A knock at his door interrupted him; he put the book aside and turned back to his desk, plastering on a false expression of cheer. “Come in!”

His fake smile died, and his breath caught at the sight of her; she’d changed very little in two years. Her hair was shorter and colored a deep auburn, but her brown eyes and upturned nose and pink lips were exactly the same. She was still slender, still very much a pocket Venus, and her clothes…He drew in a shaky breath as he realized she was wearing – not her old school uniform as he’d first assumed, but a very close facsimile thereof. Blue-and-grey plaid, thigh-length, pleated skirt; crisp white, short-sleeved blouse; grey knee-socks; but yes, her school tie still hung demurely between her breasts. “Miss Hooper,” he said, rising to his feet and folding his hands behind his back. “You look…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Well,” he concluded.

“Professor Holmes,” she replied with a nod, stepping further into the room before closing – and locking – the door behind her. She smirked before turning to face him again. “You look…good enough to eat.”

He blinked rapidly; what had become of his shy schoolgirl? She’d grown into a confident young woman, of course, which was only to be expected, and he felt a slow smile growing on his lips as he contemplated the changes only two years had wrought in her. “I thought you might like my hair in its natural state,” he replied with a smirk, moving from behind the desk and brushing a hand against the dark curls tumbling over his forehead. She stepped further from the door, and they met in the middle of the crowded office, standing only a foot or two apart from one another. 

“The curls suit you,” Molly said, a dimple appearing in her cheek and her brown eyes warming. He reached out finally and gave in to the need to touch her, grazing his fingers across her cheek and feeling his smile deepen as her eyes fluttered shut. “I’ve missed you,” Molly admitted quietly.

“My life is still dangerous,” Sherlock replied just as quietly. But he didn’t remove his hand from her face, and his other hand had reached out to cup her other cheek. “I still have enemies, and I’ve been known to be reckless with my own life.” He gave a slight grimace even as his fingers moved over the shell of her ear. He didn’t miss the shiver that went over her body at that light touch, and his heart sang at yet another sign that she’d not moved on from him as completely as he’d feared. “And the lives of others, on occasion.”

“I told myself I was going to slap you silly for just…leaving me like that,” Molly admitted. “That I was going to read you the riot act for not giving me a choice in whether we continued on or not.” Her chin lifted, and Sherlock found himself utterly entranced by the determination that simple movement spoke of. “But now that I’m here…all I want to do is kiss you. And tell you that, no matter what your life is like, if you still want me, you can have me. Even if it’s just as friends.”

She wasn’t his student, wasn’t in his class on criminology, she was twenty years old now, she still wanted him as much as he still wanted her…so many reasons to say yes, but in his mind the voice of caution whispered, _there could always be another Moriarty, you’ve nearly got John killed more than once, you nearly died yourself more than once, your life is too dangerous, she’ll be a distraction, you need to focus on the work…_

“Sod it,” he muttered, banishing the negative voice – sounding suspiciously like his annoying older brother – and lowering his head to capture Molly’s lips in a demanding kiss. When it ended, he cradled her head in both hands, pressing his forehead against hers as he growled, “I could never be just your _friend_ , Molly Hooper, get that idea out of your head right now.”

Just like that two years melted away. “Yes, Professor,” Molly said eagerly, her hands reaching up to caress the lapels of his tweed jacket. “Whatever you say.”

He kissed her again, hard, enjoying the urgent tightening in his trousers in a way he hadn’t for two long years. Oh, of course he’d had erections, he was human and male, after all, but having to depend only on his hand to ease the discomfort had been barely satisfying at best. And although he’d had the opportunity to ease that ache with others – most notably one Irene Adler, who’d led him a merry chase during the Moriarty situation – somehow the thought of sex had seemed…distasteful. Pointless.

No, not just the thought of sex in general, he admitted to himself as he undid her blouse and unclasped her simple white bra. The idea of sex with anyone but _Molly_ had been unappealing. He would never admit to something so mundane as pining, but he’d certainly missed her. And now here she was, back in his life and in his arms and he couldn’t be…happier? Was that the right word?

Yes, he decided as he spun her around so that she was facing his desk, her bum snugly pressed to his erection, that was the right word.

He was happy – and he was about to make the two of them utterly satiated as well.

“Bend over the desk, Miss Hooper,” he growled, his hands on her hips as he gave her a little push. “Legs apart. I think you need a reminder about who’s in charge of this relationship. Don’t think I didn’t notice that little smirk you gave when you locked the door behind you. Without my permission, I might add.”

“Sorry, Professor, I’ll make sure to wait next time,” Molly replied, sounding breathless. She was bent over his desk, hands flat on the wooden surface in the clear spot between stacks of books, legs apart just as he’d ordered her. The tightening in his trousers grew almost painful, and he quickly undid belt, button and zip, easing his erection free of the trapping fabric as he walked up behind her. She was looking over her shoulder, lower lip caught between her teeth and a very familiar gleam in her eyes. “Shall I…do you want me to remove my knickers, sir?”

“No,” he snapped, although he couldn’t help a grin of anticipation as he tugged his trousers and pants down to the tops of his thighs. He reached between her legs and pulled her knickers – white cotton, just like her bra – aside and brushed his fingers over her exposed pussy. “God, I’ve missed this,” he breathed, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of her neck. “Condom?”

She fumbled in her handbag, which she’d set on the stack of books to her left, eventually pulling out the small foil packet. It might not have taken her as long as it did if he hadn’t spent the entire time teasing her with the head of his cock, gliding it between her legs and grinding against her backside, his hands never leaving her sweet little breasts. He pinched her nipples lightly and then harder, until she cried out softly, her breathing rapid and shallow and a lovely flush showing on the exposed portions of her skin.

Once he’d opened the packet and rolled the condom on, he reached between her legs, slipping two fingers inside her and brushing her clit with his thumb. She was so wet and ready for him, her folds slippery and swollen and he couldn’t wait a single second longer; pulling his fingers out, he grabbed his cock, positioned himself, and thrust into her, groaning at the warmth and wetness and the absolute rightness he felt at being deep, deep inside her after so long.

Molly, it would appear, felt exactly the same way, if the noises she was making and the urgent movements of her body beneath his were anything to go by. He slid one hand up to grasp her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb until she was gasping and writhing, moaning out his name as he continued to push himself in and out of her at a deliberately slow pace. “Please,” she moaned out after he’d lowered himself over her in order to plant a series of sucking kisses to the back of her neck. “Please, Professor…”

“Please what, Miss Hooper?” he breathed against her ear, stopping his movements entirely. God it was agony, but he wasn’t going to rush this, their first encounter after two even more agonizing years apart. He placed both hands on her hips, holding tightly and forcing her to stop her movements as well. “Use your words, tell me what you want.”

He’d used his most commanding voice, and she responded to it as beautifully as ever. “Please, sir,” she cried out, turning her face so that their lips nearly touched. “Please fuck me.”

He drew her head closer, his hand on the back of her neck, and kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth at the same time he finally began snapping his hips against hers, setting a punishing rhythm that had them both panting and moaning within seconds.

He felt the shivering in her slender form as she tightened around his cock, signaling her imminent orgasm, and smiled against the back of her neck before nipping at the flesh above her carotid artery. He left his mouth there, sucking a dark, owning mark on her throat as she writhed beneath him, crying out her pleasure in a series of soft whimpers punctuated by his name. She’d never called him Sherlock before, and the sound of his name from her lips brought his own orgasm shuddering over him before he realized it; he moaned her name, fingers clamped tightly on her hips as his hot cum gushed into her, hard enough to bring spots to his eyes.

Once the dizzying rush had slowed, heart rate and breathing and vision back to normal, Sherlock carefully pulled Molly up and away from the desk, cradling her in his arms as he steered her around the desk and over to the low sofa sat in front of the curtained windows. He allowed his legs to give out and made sure she landed comfortably in his lap, a giggle escaping her lips as they sank down into the cushions.

He had no idea what he’d done to deserve a second chance with this woman. Hell, he knew he damned well deserved to be slapped silly by her, as she’d admitted to thinking about doing! Well, no doubt he’d fuck up in the future and she’d get her chance. For now, all he wanted to do was hold her, feel the warmth of her body against his as she snuggled her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around him, listen to her breathe and drink in the very scent of her – Molly and sex and a faint whiff of formaldehyde undoubtedly picked up from one of her labs earlier in the day. Smiling contentedly, he grabbed his coat from where he’d carelessly dropped it on the other end of the sofa earlier, and pulled it over the two of them.

Whether he deserved it or not, Molly Hooper was back in his life, and this time he wouldn’t be stupid enough to let her go.


End file.
